


So that you'll hear me

by Lleu



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: M/M, Translation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-24
Updated: 2012-06-24
Packaged: 2017-11-08 08:13:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 828
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/441088
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lleu/pseuds/Lleu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"So that you'll hear me / my words / wash away sometimes / like the footprints of gulls on the beach." Stiles speaks fluent Derek Hale (or at least he thinks he does).</p>
            </blockquote>





	So that you'll hear me

**Author's Note:**

  * A translation of [Para que tú me oigas](https://archiveofourown.org/works/440513) by [Lleu](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lleu/pseuds/Lleu). 



> The title is a translation of a fragment from the fifth poem in Pablo Neruda _Veinte poemas de amor y una canción desesperada_. Originally written in Spanish, which was an adventure; this translation is my own doing. I hope you enjoy it.

Stiles speaks fluent Derek Hale.

Because of this he often acts as translator for the rest of the pack. He doesn't know where or when he learned how to understand exactly what the Alpha is trying to say when he turns his head just so or grimaces like that. He just knows that the others don't understand and that Derek will be frustrated if he can't communicate with them, and that they'll say something stupid if he doesn't warn them that the Alpha is annoyed with Scott or whatever, so it's easier to just translate than try to explain it.

The others don't seem to notice what he does, but Derek does. Stiles can see it in the way the werewolf looks at him, eyes shining, when the others are busy with training or whatever else. The corner of his mouth twitches sometimes such that Stiles can almost believe he's going to smile, but it never manages to become a real smile.

Sometimes he wonders why Derek doesn't just tell the others what he's feeling. Well, he understands pretty well why he doesn't want to share his feelings with Scott or Jackson, and he still doesn't know the new members as well as he'd need to to really trust them. But wouldn't the pack move a lot more smoothly if he said what he was feeling? Why does he keep letting Stiles be his spokesman?

He'd almost believe Derek trusted _him_ , if the idea wasn't utterly ridiculous. Really, Stiles doesn't know why Derek invites him to the pack meetings. He doesn't have anything to offer to the group, unless you count his abilities as a researcher. The town library is fairly well-stocked with books on supernatural beings, and the internet opens up before him like another huge library. So he's not completely useless, but compared with the werewolves or with Allison, who knows how to use a bow, it's not a lot.

But every weekend (and actually several times during the week, too) Stiles finds himself in front of the door to the apartment Derek's renting, just a few minutes from the center of Beacon Hills. Derek always knows that he's arrived and opens the door for him before he can knock. And Stiles is always the first one to arrive. Derek looks at him with that threatening look that Stiles now knows is his happy to see someone face.

"You're wearing the striped shirt," Derek says one Wednesday when they're in his apartment. Scott had been there with them, but he had to pick up his mother from the hospital. So Derek and Stiles are alone and it's getting dark outside.

"What striped shirt?" Stiles asks, looking at what he was wearing for the first time since getting dressed in the morning.

"It doesn't matter," says Derek, shrugging. That means it _does_ matter, but Derek doesn't want to explain it to him. Then Stiles remembers and smiles.

"Well, why not?" he says. "Danny already told us it's not your color."

"It's nothing," says Derek, but his eyes stay on the shirt for a while, until Stiles starts to blush.

"Well," he says, "I have to go. See you." He grabs his backpack and gets ready to go, but Derek stops him.

"Stiles."

"What?"

Derek comes closer to him. He smells like those mints he likes. Stiles is suddenly acutely aware of how close their bodies are.

"I'm glad you come to the pack meetings," Derek says.

"You're...welcome?" says Stiles, confused. He doesn't know how to interpret these expressions, or the speed of his pulse, the fact that he's short of breath.

"Seriously," says Derek. "I want to thank you."

"Well, now you've thanked me," says Stiles, and turns again to leave. Derek's hand on his shoulder stops him this time.

"Stiles." There's a feeling Stiles doesn't recognize in the way Derek says his name. "Can I kiss you?"

Wait a second.

"What?"

"What I said."

Stiles swallows. He doesn't know what to say. On the one hand, he's never been kissed, and part of him is screaming _YES. SAY YES_. On the other hand, though, it's _Derek_. The Alpha. A man. Stiles is always aware that he's only sixteen, that Derek has already finished college.

"It's fine if you don't want to," says Derek. "I don't want to pressure you."

"You're not pressuring me," says Stiles. "I just...don't know what to say."

"Well," says Derek. "Think about it. I can wait for you. Go home; if you decide, let me know."

He takes his hand off Stiles's shoulder; Stiles is still confused.

"Seriously, no pressure," says Derek. There's compassion in his voice that Stiles doesn't know how to react to. "Go home; your father will be waiting for you."

Not knowing what else to do, Stiles does what he's told. He heads out to the corner where he parked his Jeep and goes home.

Apparently he doesn't understand Derek Hale as well as he'd thought.


End file.
